


Three Time Travelers in a Boat

by aces



Category: Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-15
Updated: 2009-06-15
Packaged: 2020-10-06 02:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: Warnings:  This is so fluffy you might find yourself floating away from your computer screen.Prompted by livii, who requested getting some proper time off and having some fun.A/N some more:  I know there’s more involved than just rowing.  This is aspecialplanet where the normal rules of boating don’t apply, alright?  Also, I make no claim to evenbeginto be as awesome as Jerome K. Jerome.  I just really, really couldn’t resist the title.  (And there is no dog.  K9 did not feel obliged to come along.)





	Three Time Travelers in a Boat

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This is so fluffy you might find yourself floating away from your computer screen.  
Prompted by livii, who requested getting some proper time off and having some fun.  
A/N some more: I know there’s more involved than just rowing. This is a _special_ planet where the normal rules of boating don’t apply, alright? Also, I make no claim to even _begin_ to be as awesome as Jerome K. Jerome. I just really, really couldn’t resist the title. (And there is no dog. K9 did not feel obliged to come along.)

Anji was a _city_ person. So was Fitz; she knew he’d spent his life growing up and living in north London, and the only greenery he ever saw was perhaps an occasional visit to Hampstead Heath and that plant shop he’d told her he worked at before he joined the Doctor. The same for her; she’d spent the rare family afternoon at Hyde Park, or gone on holiday and dutifully visited local botanical gardens of note, but she was used to skyscrapers made of steel, concrete and tarmac and anonymous glass.

Fitz had been the one to insist on this outing. Which was why Anji was so confused; Fitz came from the city too. Fitz was most at home amidst bars, alleyways and bedsits, not necessarily the commercial and public spaces Anji operated in, but still parts of the _city_. Maybe he had some kind of romantic notion about the moral Goodness of the Great Outdoors or something. He was from the ‘60s, though, not Queen Victoria’s time; surely they’d outgrown that thinking by then?

And yet, here they were. The travelers had landed on this out-of-the-way planet at the forgotten end of one of the spirals of the galaxy, and even the Doctor would have been perfectly content to poke around for a half-hour and then bog off due to the lack of impending danger to the entire universe (or at least this small portion of the galaxy—even just a threat to this planet probably would have held his interest, but not the entire _lack_ of one), but Fitz had strangely become excited over all the greenery, and then when he’d spotted the river, he’d whirled on the Doctor and said, rather dramatically for such an ordinary statement, “_You_ have a boat.”

The Doctor had blinked. “Yes?” he’d said.

“In the TARDIS,” Fitz had clarified. “I’ve seen it; you were polishing it or washing it or whatever one does to keep boats looking clean and tidy. In the boot cupboard, I think.”

Anji had been traveling with them long enough to know that the “boot cupboard,” in TARDIS-parlance, actually meant a room of fairly staggering size. And only holding a few wellies in it. She’d been hoping for at least _one_ pair of fabulous leather boots, after looking in vain through the regular wardrobe areas. The majority of the items she’d found in the room could not be considered boots. At least not on Earth.

“Oh yes,” the Doctor’s face had cleared. “I know which boat you’re talking about. There’s actually a fairly substantial collection; I think…well, I’m not sure why. I’ve never been overly fond of boats myself. That I can remember.”

Fitz had frowned and then shaken himself. “Let’s take it out,” he’d said, sounding all excited again, and Anji had begun to wonder if he was coming down with something.

“Do you even know how to row?” she’d asked.

“No, but I’m sure the Doctor does.” Fitz had sounded far too innocent. Anji had glared at him, but the Doctor had merely laughed and headed back for the TARDIS.

Fitz, of course, had disappeared as soon as the heavy lifting portion of the afternoon began. Anji was the one to stand and argue with the Doctor about how best to get the boat from the boot cupboard through the console room outside onto the planet. The argument had ended abruptly when he remembered he owned a couple small anti-gravity lifting devices, and after attaching them, they found it remarkably easy to move the boat. Steering it so it didn’t bump into the walls or crash into any of the numerous shelves and desks and other pieces of furniture filled with stuff was a slightly different problem that they continued to argue over as they—slowly—guided the boat through the TARDIS.

When they’d reached the console room, they found Fitz had not merely buggered off as was his wont; he’d actually gone to the kitchen and packed a picnic.

“Fitz?” Anji had asked. “Are you feeling alright?” She’d almost reached up to feel his forehead.

“Fine,” he said. “Great, in fact.” He flipped down a pair of shades he’d dug out of somewhere and flashed her his trademark, attempting-to-be-rakishly-cool smile. Sometimes it irritated her. Today, she found herself smiling back.

“Marvelous!” the Doctor had enthused, poking around in the picnic basket. “What a clever fellow you are, Fitz.”

Fitz’s grin had turned genuinely pleased—it always did when he got a compliment from anyone, particularly the Doctor. “C’mon,” Fitz had said, almost running through the main doors. “Water’s waiting!”

Anji had shaken her head but followed, helping the Doctor ensure the boat did not crash into the console and break anything major. Not that they’d notice a difference, probably, she thought to herself privately. She had decided not to share that comment aloud with the Doctor.

And now, here they were, in a boat on a river on another planet. The Doctor was rowing—he and Anji took turns, while Fitz encouraged and lay back and thoroughly refused to exert himself any further than fetching food and drink for all three of them. At least he’d packed lemonade as well as beer, and he’d thrown in fruits and veg as well as pretzels and crackers. Actually, it looked like he’d dumped anything he’d found in the kitchen. Anji had laughed despite herself when she found a box of muffin mix underneath a bag of grapes. Fitz had gnawed on a carrot sheepishly.

Gradually Anji found herself relaxing. Everything was _green_. Trees with massive green leaves hung over the sides of the river, which was fairly narrow, so that they drifted under a canopy, with the occasional shaft of blue-white sky or yellow-green sunlight peeking through. A gentle breeze blew with a fair amount of regularity, but it was warm enough that the Doctor removed his frockcoat and Anji and Fitz wore short-sleeved shirts with comfort. Animals—they hadn’t seen any birds, but they had seen various small four- and six-legged creatures—sang, or chattered, or made some other sorts of noises to themselves and each other. Anji was pretty sure she and her friends were the only sentient creatures on the entire planet. Unless the animals _were_ actually talking to each other. She only hoped they were friendly.

The Doctor was taking a brief respite from rowing, letting the boat drift but keeping an eye on their drift to ensure they didn’t crash into one of the embankments. He was sipping lemonade and nibbling on a fairy cake. Anji took a drink from her own lemonade and let a hand trail in the water. The surface, at least, was warmed, but she had no desire to go swimming in it; she could tell it was freezing cold just a little bit deeper where the sun could not penetrate through the trees to warm.

Fitz drank his way through three or four beers and now lay sprawled in the bow of the boat. He still wore his sunglasses, and he appeared to be asleep, and he was grinning. Anji kept glancing at him and shaking her head and then getting distracted by all the _green_ around her all over again.

“I think it might even be more beautiful than the Eye of Orion,” the Doctor said, apparently reading her mind, as he occasionally did. “We were probably lucky to land today; I’m sure all this greenery requires a great deal of rain to maintain it.”

“I’ve never been very good at nature,” Anji said, her hand still trailing through the water. The water wasn’t flowing very quickly, and she felt safe, in a way she hadn’t felt safe since before Dave died. “It’s too—there’s always bugs, and it invariably _does_ end up raining, and you get your new shoes muddy. I always know where I am in a building.”

“They don’t have to be separate,” the Doctor said mildly. “I’ll have to take you to visit the Cheem sometime. Lovely race. Come from trees. You should see their architecture.”

Anji found herself grinning again, unexpectedly. She glanced back at the Doctor, found him grinning back at her, and turned around again to face Fitz. She poked his big toe with her foot, and he started. “Wha?”

“Did you pack any chocolate in that box of miracles of yours?” she asked.

He blinked, righted himself slightly, shook his head. “Of course I did,” he said after he’d oriented himself once more. “What sort of picnic-basket-maker do you take me for?”

“And how many picnic baskets have you packed in your life, exactly?” Anji retorted, watching him scrounge through the remains still left in the basket.

“Loads, actually,” he said unexpectedly. “Growing up, my mum and I would go to the park and the cemetery a lot, and I always packed us a lunch.” He emerged, triumphant, a bag of chocolate buttons in one hand and a packet of jaffa cakes in the other. He handed Anji the buttons and kept the cakes for himself.

“The cemetery?” Anji questioned.

“To visit my dad,” Fitz said, easily, and he opened another beer.

Anji wiped her hand down on her trousers before opening the bag of buttons. “Oh,” she said, inadequately. She knew that, she remembered that. Fitz’s dad had died when he was young, and his mum had died when he met the Doctor.

“My mum always did the packing,” Anji said. “Any holiday we went on. My dad shouted we’d be late, and my brother always buggered off to who-knew-where so he wouldn’t get roped into doing anything.”

“And you?” Fitz asked, laying back again with a sigh of pleasure, beer in one hand and jaffa cakes in the other, the picture of contented repose, and Anji found a laugh bubbling up inside, trying to make its way out. She let it.

“Helping mum, usually,” she said, and Fitz grinned sleepily back at her. “She was good at _making_ things but crap at packing them with any sort of efficiency.”

“You are a very efficient person,” the Doctor interjected as he reached over her shoulder to grab a handful of buttons. She glanced up at him, not sure how to take that remark, but he was still grinning at both of them, fondly, so she settled back on her seat in the boat and soaked in the view some more.

“I’m not very good at painting usually,” said the Doctor contemplatively a few minutes later, “but I wouldn’t mind trying to paint this.”

“Couldn’t do it,” Fitz said, shaking his head. He had crumbs all down his front. The Doctor’s white shirt and waistcoat were spotless, of course. “You’d go mad trying to get all the leaves in.”

Anji found herself laughing again. “Fitz,” she demanded, “you didn’t spike this lemonade, did you?”

“Absolutely not,” he declared, looking mock-wounded. “I was going to bring you wine but I couldn’t find any,” he added. “Anyway, why spike perfectly good lemonade?”

“Quite right,” the Doctor agreed.

“Then why—” she started asking, and then stopped. _Why am I so relaxed?_ she had been about to ask, or maybe _Why am I so happy?_ And asking either question would only have killed the mood, and she didn’t want that.

She hadn’t felt this safe since before Dave died, and she hadn’t seen either of her friends—and they _were_ her friends, come hell or high water or alien baddies, and largely _because_ of hell and high water and alien baddies were they her friends—this relaxed or happy themselves…possibly ever. Fitz did a marvelous job faking cool and smooth, sometimes, and the Doctor perpetually looked delightfully interested in something or other, but she’d never seen either man so quiet, mellow, simply enjoying the moment.

And when was the last time _she’d_ enjoyed the moment? A long, long time before Dave had died, that was when. Far too long.

“Why what?” the Doctor prodded, taking up the oars again and deftly turning them away from an approaching curve in the river. He ended up turning them around, back the way they’d come. He started rowing with strength, pushing against the flow of the water, heading back for the TARDIS.

“Never mind,” Anji said. She glanced at Fitz’s empty bottles of beer. At least he wasn’t smoking. But he did appear to be asleep again. She grabbed the Doctor’s frockcoat, glanced at him, and threw it over Fitz when the Doctor nodded his permission.

Eventually, they made it back to where the TARDIS had landed. Fitz woke up spontaneously exactly when they found the landing they’d used to get the boat in the water and themselves in the boat, and he began pouring all their litter back into the picnic basket with surprising energy. Anji handed him things in order to feel useful. The Doctor stretched and rolled his arms and shoulders.

Fitz would take the picnic basket inside, conveniently avoiding having to deal with the boat again, and Anji and the Doctor would argue some more over exactly how they should maneuver the boat back into the TARDIS and boot cupboard without destroying anything in its path. And then they would land somewhere else, somewhere where the universe was in imminent doom, or maybe just some small portion of the galaxy (or perhaps even just a single planet), and they would be running again.

Anji knew that was all going to happen in the next, oh, hour or so. So when they got the boat back on dry land, and before Fitz could conveniently disappear with the picnic basket, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and told him, in a low voice so the Doctor wouldn’t overhear, “You really _can_ be an awfully clever fellow sometimes, Fitz.”

Fitz’s face went from surprised to genuine delight, and then he gave her a grave bow and went back into the TARDIS. And he was probably going for a smoke, and he’d probably forget to wipe down the picnic basket so they’d find it growing with mold the next time anybody took it out, and it would probably turn out to be mold that was some superintelligent shade of blue or something else that would attempt to take over the universe, but right now, looking around one last time at all the _green_ surrounding them while the Doctor attached the anti-gravity devices to the bottom of the boat, Anji really didn’t mind.

She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun, one last time.


End file.
